


oceans between you & me

by the1oo (divineauthor)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Clarke!Josephine, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exes, F/M, Filipino Bellamy Blake, Getting Back Together, Miscommunication, Pining, meaning josie looks like clarke mostly bcs they're supposed to be related here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 16:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21102851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divineauthor/pseuds/the1oo
Summary: It had been a month since Josephine forced him to break up with Clarke, but the lease on their apartment wasn’t over until the end of the year. Bellamy had no money to move out and Clarke would rather sleep on the streets than go back home to her mom’s estate, so they both sucked it up and lived together.—•—Josephine forces Bellamy to break up with Clarke. To make things worse, they still live together.





	oceans between you & me

**Author's Note:**

> ok so first thing’s first:  
\- aurora is completely ooc to suit my needs lmao  
\- josephine looks like clarke, for no other reason but to make the problem of genetics easier  
\- gabriel's reduced to one line & being a shit boyfriend i'm so sorry u deserve better  

> 
> title from: seafret’s “oceans”

It was nearly midnight when Bellamy came back home. His second job as a bartender paid decently and the tips were good if he mustered enough energy to smile at the customers. It was a hell of a lot better than his day job working security for the local museum. Bartending was pretty fun, but he always felt sticky and drained after his shift. He huffed out a sigh and dropped his keys into the bowl, not even bothering to call out Clarke’s name to see if she was home. The air was too still, the apartment too quiet. 

It had been a month since Josephine forced him to break up with Clarke, but the lease on their apartment wasn’t over until the end of the year. Bellamy had no money to move out and Clarke would rather sleep on the streets than go back home to her mom’s estate, so they both sucked it up and lived together. 

But when Clarke was here, it was like living with a ghost. She barely made an indentation on the bed where she slept. Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep he would look over to the side and he’d see Clarke curled up at the edge of the bed with her back to him, afraid to take up space. Just the few inches between them felt like they were oceans apart. He ached with the need to bring her back into his side, but Bellamy didn’t know if Josephine was creepy enough to bug their apartment (rich, white people were weird, okay?) so he restrained himself. 

He walked into his kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee with the fancy espresso machine Clarke brought from her mom’s place when she got tired of his instant coffee. He almost froze off his fingers outside, the beginning of winter was already off to a bad start, so he was desperate to feel human and warm again.

He flinched when the beeping cut through the silence and he trudged over to the dining room and sat down, feeling the weight of the day, the month really, sink deep into his shoulders, making him hunch over his coffee. His hands curled around the mug, leeching off the heat, and he sat there staring as the steam faded and the creamer swirled lazily in the cup, turning the rest of the drink lighter. He stared and stared and stared until the door opened. 

Loud footsteps came to a startled stop. 

Bellamy’s coffee had gone cold and a quick glance at his watch made him aware that three hours passed. He didn’t mean to wait for Clarke’s arrival. He didn’t actually mean to stay awake for so long, but time had slipped him by without him noticing. 

Clarke twisted the strap of her duffel bag, turning the palms of her skin even whiter. Her voice cut through the air as she asked, “You’re still awake?”

She sounded concerned, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. It was useless anyway. Bellamy opened his mouth to respond, but Clarke interrupted him before he could speak. “Obviously, you’re awake. Sorry, I’ll just… yeah, I’m gonna go to bed. Night, Bellamy.”

She shuffled to their bedroom while Bellamy let go of his mug, fingers stiff and unyielding. He dumped the full cup of coffee in the sink and sank down on the lumpy sofa that Bellamy had wanted to keep from his old place before they moved here. Clarke had laughed at him and said that she could chip in to buy something newer, but Bellamy had frowned and said that it had character. Now its character dug into his back as he laid down. He could’ve just slipped in the bed next to Clarke, but there was something daunting about walking back to their room and sliding under the covers next to her, knowing that she was wide awake, knowing that he couldn’t touch her. So the couch it was then. 

He hated this type of quiet. There was so much room for his thoughts to roam free and taunt him with memories of better days, like when Clarke first told him everyone’s nickname for her, weeks after they started dating. Clarke had scrunched up her nose and spat out the word _ princess _ like a curse, her eyes melting like glaciers. He had laughed, remembering that he had hissed that very word at her when they first met and he coined her as one of the annoying, rich, white girls that had their Daddy pay everything for them. He kissed her frown away, poking at her sides, until she giggled into his mouth. He had said, soft and low, “The name’s fitting, princess.”

She had smacked his arm lightly, but he could tell that she didn’t mind the nickname when he said it from the way her ears turned pink. He said princess way more than her name, but now he wasn’t even sure she wanted him to say anything to her after he broke up with her. 

It washed over him, this thick melancholy tinged with sepia-toned nostalgia. It covered him until he was sick with it, bathed in half-remembered memories. He sighed and whispered, voice croaky from lack of use, “Good night, princess.”

No one answered, of course, but he fell asleep anyway.   
  


* * *

When he awoke, it was seven a.m. and Clarke was in the kitchen jumbling things around. A jolt of surprise ran through him. She usually never stayed over, always rushing to leave for work or something before Bellamy woke up. He was still wearing his work clothes from the night before, but he didn’t care. He walked into the kitchen, shoulders tense, but eyes searching, yearning. 

Clarke was a sight to behold when she wasn’t wrapped up in so many layers—simply beautiful that it almost made Bellamy breathless. Clarke’s blonde hair was nestled up in a bun, held together with a wooden chopstick that was probably left over from one of their takeout nights. Her lines were softened by the lazy droop in her shoulders and her oversized shirt that might’ve been his at one point. Bellamy suddenly felt like scum on the bottom of his shoe compared to her, dressed in day old clothing that still probably reeked of alcohol and sweat. 

He moved towards her, not meaning to, but it was like gravity with her, wanting to be by her side. Inevitable. He accidentally stepped on the creaky part of the floor, making Clarke turn around with her breakfast still in hand. She swallowed the bite that was already in her mouth and said stiffly, “Morning, Bellamy.”

“Morning,” he parroted. He shoved his hands into his pockets and fiddled with a spare button that had popped out of one of his shirts ages ago, trying to keep himself from looking at her directly. It was frayed, the extra thread sticking out against the smooth plastic. Sort of like him, Bellamy figured.

“I have a sixteen hour shift today, so I won’t be home until later. Don’t wait up,” was all Clarke said before she shoved her bowl back into the sink. He stood still for a few moments, hearing Clarke fumbling around their room until she jogged out. Bellamy waited for the click of the door before he peaked over to glance at the sink. 

The bowl was almost full. 

* * *

* * *

“C’mon, Bell, let’s go out tonight,” Clarke said into his back, her voice muffled. Her hands wrapped loosely around his stomach and she played with the tiny hole in his shirt, squeezing lightly at the softness of his stomach. It had been awhile since he had abs, years honestly, but Clarke never seemed to mind it. In fact, she always hummed happily whenever they cuddled and said that he was her perfect pillow. Bellamy flipped a pancake with his right hand as his left covered her arms, his fingers catching on her engagement ring. He grinned at the feeling of metal on his skin. She continued, “I finally have a day off because the hospital overstaffed and you always have Sundays off.”

“You only wanna go out to avoid your family and now you have no excuse to ditch because you don’t have work,” he said as he turned off the stove. He moved to face her and lifted her chin up with his finger. She still had sleep lines on her face and he kissed them, smiling as he did so. “I know it’s been hard since your dad passed away, but they still need you.”

“Mom became a drug addict ever since Dad died and Josie’s been an obsessed weirdo about Dad’s company.” Clarke said it so casually, it was like when his mom read out his report card. (Straight A’s, of course.) She rolled her eyes and lifted herself up to sit on the counter, grabbing her plate and wiggling her fingers at him until he gave her a fork. He really wanted to spend the rest of his life with such a princess. He snorted. His glasses slid down his nose and he pushed it back up as he slathered butter over their pancakes, pouring a normal amount of syrup on his plate and an obscene amount for Clarke. As he finished, he grabbed two forks for them. 

“Your highness,” he teased, presenting the fork like a ceremonial sword. She grabbed it and kicked his legs playfully, chomping down on her food as fast as she could. He said, “I’ll come with you to dinner, okay? And I’m marrying you anyway, so I might as well get used to it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I love you,” she said, even though it sounded more like _ uh lob ou _ since she shoved another piece into her mouth. Bellamy smiled and picked up his own plate. 

* * *

  
Bellamy had nothing to wear, so he just fished out his work pants and a button up shirt he found shoved in the back of his closet. He tried to do the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeve, cursing when a button popped out. He picked it up and shoved it back in his pocket, sighing. Clarke laughed from the bed and she came up to him and started rolling his sleeves. “It’s not that formal, you know. You didn’t need to get all dressed up.”

“I know,” he said, watching as her ring glinted as it moved. “I just haven’t seen your family in awhile and I don’t wanna seem like a bum.”

“God, shut up, Bell,” she said, rolling her eyes and smoothing out his nonexistent wrinkles. “You have a PhD, two jobs, and you took care of your sister for years while your mom was sick. And even if you were a bum, they don’t have any right to shit on you for that. You’d be the bum I’m in love with and they'd just have to deal with it.”

Bellamy couldn’t help the warmth sweep through his chest. Clarke’s fingers trailed up his arms, his neck, to caress his cheeks. She whispered, pouting, “You’re freckles are fading.”

“It’s getting closer to winter. No sun means less freckles,” he said, giving her a sweet kiss. She was adorable. “And quit stalling. I wanna get this over with too.”

He slid into the passenger seat and messed with his sleeves again. Clarke started the car, her right hand automatically reaching for his to hold, and they took off. The drive over wasn’t that bad, except for when Clarke nearly slammed the brakes, trying to avoid a coyote sitting on the road. Besides that, they made it to her mom’s estate in one piece.

Bellamy suppressed the urge to scowl at the extravagance, letting his eyes dart to the perfectly trimmed topiary and the columns—honest to God, literal columns.The lashivness was too much for him. He had forgotten that he was ever resentful about Clarke’s background and he sort of let it fade into his mind mostly because the more he knew about Clarke, the less she seemed to fit with her privileged status. She never acted as pretentious as her background suggested. 

He lived in a shitty two bedroom apartment with his mom and his sister for years until he went to college. He had been working three jobs back then to pay off his mom’s medical bills and rent until his mom basically kicked him out and told him to go to college. His mom and Octavia got their own rooms because his mom needed space for all her medical supplies and Octavia would’ve thrown a fit if she had to share a room with him. So he made his own in their living room because there wasn’t any space. Bellamy thought his back was permanently fucked from sleeping on their pull out until Clarke said she bought a king sized bed for their new apartment. The first time he slept on it, he felt like he was sleeping on a cloud. 

Abby opened the door, her eyes glazed over. Oh, well this was off to a great start. “Hi, Clarke. Bellamy. Come on in. Josephine’s in the dining room.”

Clarke hugged her mom, smiling sadly, and Bellamy gave Abby a nod of acknowledgement when they stepped in. He squeezed Clarke’s hand, trying to give her some form of comfort and she squeezed back, her silent thanks.

Just being here made him feel out of place and he tried not to fidget. Instead, he let Clarke lead him towards the smell of food, passing by multiple corridors and and the workers placing some fancy plates on the probably hundred year-old, antique table. 

“Hey, Clarke,” Josephine greeted, deigning to say a word to him. He gave her a tight-lipped smile and sat down across from her while Clarke sat on his left. He never liked her, always getting the vibe that she was what Clarke could’ve been: a vapid, rich, white girl. 

Clarke frowned. “Josie.” 

Funnily enough, Clarke didn’t like Josie as much as Bellamy did. 

That was all they said to each other before Abby sat down and motioned for them to eat. It was unbearably awkward, hearing every clink of cutlery, every little cough. He could see Abby’s hands shake from the lack of drugs in her system as the night went on and he could hear Josephine tapping away at her phone. If this was what it was like for every dinner, Bellamy could see why Clarke would want to skip. He was desperate to leave, even for a quick second to escape the weird atmosphere. 

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” he said, stilted. He gave Clarke a look and she nodded. 

“I’ll show you,” Clarke immediately offered, looking relieved to get away, but Josephine already stood up from her chair. Clarke looked put off as he felt. This was the one thing that would’ve boosted his mood for the rest of the night, a secret kiss in her childhood house, but that was ruined. 

“We renovated a little, so I’ll show him where the new bathroom is,” Josephine said. 

“I guess?” Clarke said, but Josephine’s nails already gripped his arm and she pulled him through one of the many halls.

She stopped suddenly in front of a door and Bellamy reached out to open it, a thanks already on the tip of his tongue, but apparently she had other plans. 

“You’re gonna have to break up with Clarke,” she said. 

“Sorry?” Did Abby order her chefs to lace LSD in his food? There was no way Clarke’s little sister was telling him this shit. It’d be laughable if he weren’t so confused. 

“Listen, Bellamy. You’re gonna tell Clarke you don’t wanna be with her anymore or else I’ll have to force you two to split up myself.” Josephine’s eyes were hard, unflinching. 

“You’ve got to be kidding. Like hell am I breaking up with her. We’re planning our _ wedding _ soon.”

“You don’t know how easy it is for me to just make a few calls and pay someone to make sure you have a little accident while you’re working the night shift at the museum. You never know when a break-in can happen. There’s some valuable art in there,” she said, smiling. “And poor Clarke’s gonna be the one to get the news.”

His body turned cold and his words got jumbled up in his chest. He blinked and he breathed, but that was all he could do. 

“So it’s either Clarke mourns you because you’ll be six feet under, or you stay alive and break up with her. Got it?” He didn’t say a word, but Josephine just tapped his cheek with her palm. “Glad, we’re on the same page.”

She sauntered away from him, a little jump to her step, leaving Bellamy in front of the bathroom door, speechless. 

* * *

Bellamy broke up with Clarke on the drive home. The coyote she almost ran over stood on the side of the road. It stared at him, shook its head, and left. 

* * *

* * *

  
Josephine invited him and his family to their annual Christmas gala a few weeks later, sending elegant gowns for his mom and Octavia and a sleek, black suit for him that was probably purposefully a size too small along with the invitation. Octavia was out of state, having her first Christmas with her boyfriend and she sent them a text saying _ sorry ill be home for the new year tho love u miss u. also can u pls keep the dress for me_. 

He would’ve lit everything on fire, or if he was feeling less dramatic he would’ve just donated it, if it weren’t for Octavia wanting to keep the dress and his mom shaking his shoulders happily and jumping up and down like she won the lottery. He plastered a grin on his face and agreed to go. 

It wasn’t until they stepped inside the venue when his mom’s hand tugged at his sleeve. He had been too busy looking at the place and fixing his tie. He didn’t belong here, with these expensive suits worth more than two months’ rent and $300 champagne being passed around like water. His mom shook his arm again and said, “Bellamy.”

He stopped pulling at his collar and muttered, “_Ano ‘yon_, Mom.”

His mom wasn’t actually Filipino, but his dad was. She had lived in the Philippines for a few years and that was where she met Bellamy’s dad. They moved to the states when they got married, but Bellamy’s dad died when he was a baby. His mom already knew Tagalog and some Filipino culture, so she taught him everything she knew, not wanting Bellamy to be disconnected from his heritage. She had Octavia a few years after him and taught her too even though she was technically white. 

“_Nasaan si _ Clarke? I haven’t seen her in forever—oh, wait! There she is.”

Bellamy froze. He forgot to tell his mom they broke up. Well, it was more like if he said they broke up out loud, it would feel too permanent. And he couldn’t deal with that. He’d rather live in the limbo he and Clarke were in now. He was soon dragged towards Clarke and his own breath got caught in his lungs when she turned to look at them, her pretty smile soft and sweet. She looked ethereal adorned in a blue, silk dress that made him think of her eyes and her torn up flats. Even with her hair in a messy bun, and her face bare of any makeup, she still looked like she fit in. Dressed to the nines, Bellamy still felt like a fraud, 

“_Anak_, you look sick. Are you getting enough sleep? Eating enough? I thought I taught Bellamy how to cook, so his future wife won’t starve,” his mom said to her, sitting down besides Clarke and grabbing her hand with hers. 

“Everything’s good, Aurora,” Clarke lied. “There’s not enough time to eat during a shift when I’m sleeping during my breaks. But anyway, how are you?”

Clarke gave him a questioning look and subtly pointed at the both of them then his mom when she wasn’t looking. Bellamy shook his head, pleading for her to not say anything. It would break his mom’s heart if she found out Bellamy broke up with Clarke. Clarke’s jaw clenched and she nodded sharply

Bellamy shoved his hands back into his pocket and stood stock still, when he heard the steady click of someone in heels walk closer. He already felt dread creep up his spine and he didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. Josephine grabbed his attention, tapping his arm with her manicured nails and gestured towards the empty corridor. 

The moment they were alone, Josephine cleared her throat. Her blonde hair glinted oddly under the lights of the hall. It was unnerving how much she and Clarke looked like twins. Clarke’s hair was lighter, shorter too, but their eyes looked the same. 

“I’ve allowed you to live together for far enough,” Josephine said, her high pitched voice grating on his ears. She twirled a piece of her hair, looking bored already even though she was the one who made him come with her. “Do your best to move out before the week is up.”

“I don’t have any money to just move out, Josephine.” 

“Then move back with your mom. Crash at a friend’s couch. Sleep with the rats for all I care. Just stay away from Clarke. She’ll fuck another guy or girl like the whore she is the moment you’re gone, but she’ll be too heartbroken to ever think of dating again.”

Bellamy didn’t even notice that he moved until he got up in Josephine’s face, eye level with her because of her heels. He hissed, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Josephine’s face turned ashen and she shoved Bellamy away from her. “You better keep your attitude in check. It’d be a shame if something were to happen to your dear old mother. What about your sister? She’s out all on her own, hundreds of miles away from you.”

There was a ringing in Bellamy’s head, making everything sound tinny and distant. He couldn’t hear his own voice saying, “Leave them out of this.” 

“Or what?” 

Bellamy stayed silent and Josephine’s smile brightened.

“Why do you care so much?” Bellamy asked, his heart beating like a racehorse in his own ears. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “You already told me to break up with her because you threatened _ my _ life. And I did. But now you’re going after my fucking family? Why the hell do you care so much about Clarke’s private life if you don’t give a damn about her?”

“Dad didn’t update his will, so I’m left out of it.” Josephine’s face twitched into a grimace. “He wanted to keep his perfect, little princess pure and close to him. He didn’t even think that he would kick it so early, the bastard. So if Clarke marries before she’s thirty, the company gets distributed to the rest of the shareholders and I’m left with nothing.”

Rage boiled in his gut and his arms were tense at his sides. He said, “Then why didn’t you just tell me to marry her after she’s thirty. I didn’t want to hurt her. God, I never wanted to leave her… she’s my best friend.” 

“Because Dad died before he could write you a check to leave her like he did with—” Josephine started and stopped herself, looking down at the floor. She scratched absently at her wrist where a leather bracelet laid, a stark contrast to the rest of her champagne colored dress. She breathed in harshly, but he was numb to it all. “Clarke got it all. She was always Dad’s favorite and she got everything. I couldn’t let her have you. She doesn’t fucking deserve that.”

“And you do?” he bit back, words sharp and acrid in his mouth. He doesn’t give a damn about her privileged sob story. Jake was a good man and he had done the same to Bellamy as he did with Gabriel when he first started dating Clarke. Jake had offered Bellamy a large sum of money and kept upping the amount when Bellamy said no, until he told Jake there wasn’t a price large enough to get him to leave Clarke. Bellamy had said he’d sign any prenup whenever they got married and Jake merely grinned at him, slapping him on the shoulder, and welcomed him into the family. “Just because your boyfriend left you for a big check doesn’t justify making my life miserable. Use that money of yours to get therapy like a normal person.”

Her eyes narrowed and she stepped forward, her heels echoed in the hall. “You’ve got a big mouth for a guy who couldn’t even look his ex in the eye.”

“Josie?” Clarke said behind him. He turned around and saw her hidden in the shadows. He didn’t hear her, but then again, she was wearing flats and those were a lot quieter than Josephine’s footwear. Clarke came closer and Bellamy could tell her eyes were bloodshot, stinging with tears. He almost reached out to give her his support when he realized he had no right to do so. Her back straightened and she bypassed him completely to shove Josephine back. Josephine’s extra height didn’t seem to bother Clarke.

“Gabriel left you because he was a gold digging asshole. You don’t get to manipulate my life like this because you had one shitty boyfriend. I’ll put some of Dad’s shares in your name, okay? That’s more than enough and honestly, it’s more than you deserve.” Josephine made a noise, but Clarke barreled on. “No, you can’t threaten me or anyone else I care about. I recorded your threats. I know you hate me, but leave me the hell alone.”

“Clarke…”

“Leave.” There was no room for argument in her tone and Josephine did as she was told, leaving him and Clarke. She didn’t say anything, just grabbed his hand and led him through the maze of her old house, and found an empty room for them to sit.

They didn’t move, barely even breathed for a minute and Bellamy’ fingers twitched to grab hers again. She was playing with her necklace, avoiding eye contact with him. It took him a moment to realize her engagement ring was on there, gripped tight between her fingers. His throat felt dry in his mouth as he saw the ring gleam in her hands. She kept it all this time. He’d thought she threw it away, pawned it, but she _ kept _ it, close to her heart. 

“Did you really record her?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

Clarke snorted. “No. Even if I did, I don’t even think the police would take it as viable evidence. But I’m keeping an eye on her.” 

“Good one,” he said, a little blandly when he couldn’t find anything else to say. 

A few moments later, Clarke admitted in the weird glow of her family home, washed out in the light and dark eyed, "I thought you didn't love me."

A bubble of inescapable laughter swirled in his chest and he couldn’t help but let it out, uninhibited and slightly crazed. Clarke’s brows furrowed, but she didn’t say another word, just continued to let the laughter trickle out from his chest and into the world. Bellamy wiped the tears from his eyes and smiled at her, an odd thing that was neither genuinely happy nor sad. He said, “That’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“How was I supposed to know? One minute you were my fiancé, the next you broke it off,” was her way of reply. She chuckled humorlessly. “Turns out my sister’s just a bitch.”

Bellamy had never been one to articulate his feelings or his wants well, out loud at least. He always kept it bundled up in his chest until it felt like second nature to hurt. But something in him was broken and he whispered, dark and raw, “Clarke… I’m sorry. I should’ve said something. I should’ve told you.”

There was a moment, a second of surprise, and Bellamy willed Clarke to say something. His hands trembled as he dug crescent moons into his skin. She hummed and let go of her ring and crossed her arms. “Yeah, you should’ve.” 

“Clarke–”

“No, Bellamy. We were gonna get married and you neglected to tell me your life was in danger?” she said, leaning forward and throwing her hands up. “Who the hell does that? Didn’t you trust me enough to be on your side? Or at least listen to you?”

“Of course, I trust you,” he snapped. “And I’m sorry for fucking up, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell, I’m sorry I broke up with you, I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m just… sorry.” 

His voice choked up at his last words, his chest heaving. He breathed out shakily and closed his eyes. It wasn’t until he felt soft hands on his cheeks when his eyes snapped open. There was a glossy look in Clarke’s expression, a ghost of a wry smile on her lips. She sat down on the arm of his chair, her body turned towards his. 

She sighed and took his hand in hers, smoothing out the indents he made in his skin, thumbing it softly. “If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a little rough. 

“You’re still a dick for not letting me know, but I still love you. I can’t stay mad at you forever,” she said, entwining their fingers. She cracked a smile and something about it made all the tension in Bellamy’s body disappear. “If I did, we’d never have our wedding.”

“Thank God,” he breathed out, letting his head plop down onto the soft pudge of her stomach. She let go of his hand and played with his hair. “Not having a fiancée was terrible. I propose not inviting your sister to the wedding, please.”

“Sounds doable,” she said, nodding. Her laugh was a little watery and she sniffled. “Now, c’mon, Bell. Aurora’s probably wondering where we are.”

She was about to leave when he stopped her. He tilted his head up and kissed her, his hands finding a home on her waist while her hands rested on his shoulders. She tasted like all the _ I love yous _ he had trapped in his chest. She leaned back and smiled. “I missed that.”

“Me too,” he said and finally stood up. She wiggled her fingers at him until he held her hand. They left the room and joined the party together. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed !!!! find me on [tumblr](http://the1oo.tumblr.com/) :D & if u want u can also reblog the [post](https://the1oo.tumblr.com/post/188472072113/oceans-between-you-me-by-biblarke-5k) !


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